"
"Hans, Hans, the duke has sworn to hang you!"
Hans laughed. "The rope is not made that will fit my neck. Will you
denounce me, brother?"
"I?" Hermann shrank back in horror.
"Why not? Five thousand crowns still hang over me."
"Blood-money for me? No, Hans!"
"Besides, I have made a will. At my death you will be rich."
"Rich?"
"Yes, Hermann. I am worth two hundred thousand crowns."
Hermann breathed with effort. So many things had beaten upon his brain
in the past ten minutes that he was dazed. His brother Hans alive and
here, and rich?
"But riches are not everything."
"Sometimes they are little enough," Hans agreed.
"Why did you do it?" Hermann's voice was full of agony.
"Have I not told you, Hermann? There is nothing more to be added." Then,
with rising passion: "Nothing more, now that my heart is blistered and
scarred with regret and remorse. God knows that I have repented and
repented. I went to war because I wanted to be killed. They shot me
here, and here, and here, and this saber-cut would have split the skull
of any other man. But it was willed that I should come back here."
"My poor brother! You must fly from here at once!"
"From what?" tranquilly.
"The chancellor is suspicious."
"I know that.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154